


Purple Rain

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-06 06:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Yusuke's Vulpix leads him home.





	Purple Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moon_Blitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Blitz/gifts).

When Yusuke steps out of the railway station, it's raining, and before long, the sidewalk is covered in a myriad of puddles. He looks down at his companion — his Alolan Vulpix — and wonders how he might be able to keep his friend dry.

She is the most elegant Pokemon he has ever seen, and the moment he saw her — a stray on the outskirts of Tokyo — he knew he had to have her. He watched her for what felt like years before he framed her shape with his hands, trying to blank out the scenery that held her. Such a sleek coat, with the bluest eyes he's ever had the fortune to experience.

He knew she didn't belong here all alone, far from the land where her breed usually lived, so he brought her home. She has been his constant companion ever since.

Before Yusuke can think to pick her up, bundling her against his chest to protect her from the worst of the rain, she's wandering off on her own adventure. He's always loved her curiosity for the world, enjoying her companionship as they explore the city and watch people together. Stifling her curiosity isn't an option he's ever considered.

Her outlook on life was so innocent, and there was beauty in the way she sniffs passersby.

She doesn't seem to mind the rain, even as it soaks her fur. He follows her through the bustling streets and the dark alleyways.

Soon she's led him straight to Leblanc, the pads of her feet batting the door impatiently. His Pokemon knows him too well; even without words, she knows exactly what he wants.

"You wish to visit Akira?" he asks, leaning down to pat her head. She nuzzles his hand, closing her eyes.

_So do I._

When they enter the cafe, the bell on the door tinkles softly. Akira's back is turned to them as he fiddles with the array of coffee beans stacked on the far wall, and Yusuke's eyes fall to the knot where his apron is tied.

Akira would be beautiful in any outfit, and Yusuke reminds him of this often, but there's something special about the clothes he wears while working at the cafe. The deep green of his apron, the cream color of his shirt; the whole ensemble reminds him of so many things. Of coffee, home, peace, and Akira.

Vulpix is hopping up onto one of the booth seats, shaking her fur free of water. Akira smiles when he turns to see them; tender and welcoming, like always.

Yusuke fell in love with that smile so long ago, craving it all hours of the day. He draws it, paints it, dreams of it — always.

"She wanted to see you," he says, as if that explains anything.

"Yusuke, you're soaking wet. Let me get you a towel."

He slides into the booth seat opposite of Vulpix, and when Akira hands him the towel, his skin is warm as their fingers touch. He doesn't bother stopping himself from leaning forward to kiss his hand, cold lips against heated skin.

Akira doesn't pull his hand away, letting Yusuke touch him as he pleases. If Yusuke had his way, he might not ever stop lavishing him with affection.

When he looks up into the face of the man he loves, Akira is pushing at the bridge of his glasses with his free hand — a sign Yusuke has learned means that he's embarrassed. He always does it when Yusuke tells him he loves him, whether it be with whispered words in his ear or lingering caresses.

Akira's own Pokemon — a Zorua, an energetic ball of fur — skitters down the stairs from the attic, his claws clattering against the wood. He hops up onto the seat next to Yusuke's Vulpix, sniffing her before butting his head against hers.

Yusuke frames the scene with his newly-freed hands, interest piqued when the Pokemon start grooming one another. The contrast is breathtaking — an icy light with ashy darkness.

In a way, they represent his own relationship with Akira: loving, innocent, endless. Before Yusuke met Akira, he didn't see much of the world, despite his eternal struggle to capture it in his art. It was raw emotion he's always wanted to express, and yet somehow, his eyes had been closed to so much of it.

It's Akira's hand on his shoulder that pulls him back, squeezing gently before he places a steaming cup of coffee on the table, along with various treats for their Pokemon.

It's always Akira that pulls him back as he teeters on the edge of the abyss. When he's on the cusp of giving up — as he wonders just what he's fighting to accomplish in his life — he soaks in Akira's presence; always so poised. He has a mischievous side to him — if Sojiro had been here, he would have scolded him to keep the Pokemon off of the table, but it's fun to rebel sometimes. More often than not, though, Akira is kind, and caring to a fault.

Nobody has ever treated Yusuke the way Akira does. He slides onto the seat opposite of him, eyes alight with that peculiar glow of his that screams both mischief and fiery love.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, elbows on the table as he cocks his head.

Akira is the only person to ever ask him that too; he was the only person to ever care enough to wonder what sort of thoughts might be swimming through his head.

Yusuke looks at their Pokemon, gobbling down their treats. He first pats Zorua's head, who shies away from his touch, preferring his food to Yusuke's company. He can't fault him that. His Vulpix nuzzles into his hand, though; soft and comforting.

He lies his free arm on the table and Akira touches his hand, running the tips of his fingers across his skin. His whole body shudders at the sensation — of being touched, and of someone else's accord — and he wants to capture that feeling somehow; the spark in his chest of being loved.

"I was just thinking about how beautiful this world is," he says.


End file.
